


Nocturne

by ticketlove



Category: Ticketlove(band)
Genre: M/M, the piano one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 11:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticketlove/pseuds/ticketlove
Summary: KAI POST MORE FUCKING FICS ON HEREEEE DUMB BITCH





	Nocturne

Yori padded, softly, quietly through the hallway, his head turning in regular intervals to check every room he passes before quickly moving on to the next. It took a while, and he hardly made any progress through wing one of many, but he preferred it to calling Rai’s name, which brought the possibility of concerning the servants, whom Yori knew had better things to do with their time than helping him on his wild goose chase. 

“I’ll be five minutes.” Rai had promised, when he said he needed to use the bathroom. Lo and behold, twenty minutes, five texts, and two calls later and yet he still hadn’t come back, or even given Yori a sign he was feeling well. Yori assumed he had just gotten a case of food poisoning, maybe? Or, it had been awhile since he was last at home…. had Rai…. gotten lost in his own house? It seemed like the type of thing he might have done, in all honesty. Yori still gets a little mixed up in his own home, (he can never remember which restrooms have showers and which have a bathtubs, or even which have both) so maybe Rai had just done the same, but only on a scale a little more…. Rai-like. After this careful train of thought, Yori had come to the conclusion that should there be any chance Rai needed his help, he should provide it, and carefully peeled himself away from the couch and started his long and arduous journey across the building. 

The most alarming part, for Yori, honestly, was that he hadn’t run into anyone else during this whole happenstance so far. He knows Rai has a family, though his parents are never home, and a twin brother, too, who Yori remembers specifically because he had accidentally mixed the two of them up and then vowed to never do that again. He can still feel the burning shame and disgust of … was his name Hiroki? Of Hiroki’s scrutinizing gaze as Yori feverishly apologized. 

Just before Yori truly began to think he was the only person left in the entire estate, he heard, though faintly, a sound coming from… from somewhere, Yori really couldn’t tell, maybe downstairs and to the left? It was consistent, continuous, never stopping or pausing, though he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He strained to hear, kept silent and still, but it was just too muffled for him to tell, the padding of the walls and floors an almost impenetrable barrier for whatever the sound may be. It may at least be a clue to Rai’s whereabouts, however, so Yori decided to take his chances and abandon his fruitless endeavor for one that, by all means, should reap more rewards, and did the best he could to follow the path the sound carved for him.

It took Yori much longer than it should have, by all means, for him to realize it wasn’t just any static noise that usually decorates domestic life— it was music being played. It was obvious by the time he carefully descended the main staircase that someone was playing the piano, and the sound was rather beautiful. Yori found himself seeking it out not because he wanted to find Rai, per se, but rather so he could hear the song clearly. Yori’s pace quickened as he hit the first floor, head turning every which way before he determined where the music was coming from and continued on. 

Yori paused before a set of double doors, slightly ajar, where the music seemed to be at its loudest and clearest. Ah. The music room, of course, Yori had played the fool not to just head here immediately (though there was no guarantee he would have been able to find it without the song as a guide). He pushed the door open, just a bit more, only enough for his small frame to squeeze through; Once he was inside his eyes quickly scanned the room, eventually coming to rest upon the grand piano and the boy playing it. 

It was Hiroki. That was the first thing Yori noticed, thanks to his bright red hair, followed in step by how uncharacteristically calm he looked. Though Yori hadn’t spoke to Hiroki much before, he always seemed to be frowning, somehow, as if he were perpetually stepping in chewed gum, or as if he always had just been reminded of a engagement arranged prior that he didn’t want to attend. It was off-putting, and gave Yori twangs of anxiety whenever they exchanged pleasantries or passed each other in the hallway, but none of that malice seemed to be there anymore, replaced by a contentment that was contagious, spreading to Yori as well. Watching Hiroki, his eyes softened, slightly, and he let himself smile. 

It was a classical song, Yori knew, one that his own piano instructor had played for him before, though never taught. It was a beautiful melody, but Yori can’t help but feel like Hiroki played it better, the notes cascading together in a beautiful symphony that Yori just couldn’t seem to pull himself away from. It was hypnotizing, almost, watching Hiroki’s fingers dance over the keys, his head sway back and forth in time with the music as Yori trailed the wall of the room, unconsciously following the perimeter until he approached where the piano sat in the corner.

Classical music had always made Yori a bit sad— the slowness of it, the key they were all played in— piano practice always left him feeling a bit despairingly. He was never all that good at it, either, to no one’s surprise and yet, at the same time, their disappointment. But, as he leaned against the wall, his head bowed slightly, eyes closed in a simple state of bliss, he almost regretted giving up lessons. Oh, well. It wasn’t so bad, after all. He could still listen, and appreciate, as Hiroki played, his hands gently pressing the keys and spilling a wonderful cacophony for the two of them. 

The speed of the song began to pick up, a bit, and Hiroki’s eyes, while still closed, scrunched a little in concentration, and Yori silently worried over if Hiroki could sense he was listening in. His hands moved faster, yet more forceful, in contact with keys for mere moments before moving on, and Yori watched in a trance as Hiroki’s hands danced from one side of the piano to the other, each movement more mesmerizing than the last. He was in absolute awe as Hiroki lowered his head slightly, toward the piano, as notes poured from his fingertips and enthralled Yori more by the moment. It was utterly beautiful, he thought, not even just the music, but Hiroki himself, as well, his face free of animosity for once, letting himself get lost in the music. 

But all good things must come to an end. As Hiroki finished, the notes slowing, and eventually, much to Yori’s dismay, stopping altogether, Hiroki raised his head again and, for the first time since Yori entered the room, opened his eyes, looking down at the unneeded sheet music with affectionate, hooded eyes. The tranquility was soon broken, words quickly spilling out of Yori’s mouth before he could stop them. “You play really well!” He said, his entire face lighting up as he complimented Hiroki, a wide smile gracing his features as he grasped his hands together in delight.

Hiroki, upon hearing his voice, snapped his head up, turning to look at Yori, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He looked like he was searching for words, yet couldn’t find them. “How— Wait, how fucking long were you watching me?” He pushed himself up, the piano bench sliding backwards as stood to face Yori, his hand grasping the top of the piano for support. He went pale, to an almost sickly degree, grimacing as he waited for Yori’s reply. 

Yori’s hands flew up, defensively, to his sides, a surrender for whatever he had done to make Hiroki as angry as he had become. “No-No it wasn’t that long, really!” He reasoned, the smile quickly fading from his face as he felt beads of sweat form across his forehead. “I only came in about halfway thro—“

“Halfway!?” Hiroki asks, his knuckles going white where they squeeze the mahogany of the piano backboard. “And you didn’t even think to knock? Do you have no manners?” 

“But… you just played so well!” Yori said, taking a step forward. “Really!” When Hiroki didn’t interrupt him, for once, and Yori found it safe to go on, he continued. “You just looked so happy while you were playing… and the music was so beautiful, too! You didn’t mess up a single note! You play even better than my piano teacher does, everything just sounded so beautiful and perfectly timed and you didn’t even mess up on the hard part. It’s like that song was made for you!” Yori meant every word he said, inching closer to Hiroki each sentence until he was standing just arm’s length apart. 

Hiroki scowled, for a moment, and turned his head away, but Yori could still see the beginnings of a blush edging onto his face, a pretty red tint decorating his cheeks as he clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Anyone could get good with practice. I don’t know why you’re fawning so much.” His tone is harsh, but Yori tried not to let it bother him too much. 

“That’s not true.” He starts. “I practiced a lot growing up, but I don’t think I could ever be as good as you are, you know?” And, well, it’s true— try as he might Yori was never able to hit the right keys, hold the proper notes, he was never good enough for his instructor or his family, and yet here Hiroki was, everything Yori had ever aspired to be. 

“Is that supposed to be my problem? Why are you telling me this?” He turned to look at Yori, again, the remnants of a blush still tinting his cheeks. 

Yori was hurt, slightly, by Hiroki’s words, but he didn’t falter for a moment. “Because you’re amazing! You should be proud of yourself! Really! You could go far with this, I think!” Yori gives a light laugh and smiles hopefully at Hiroki, who only pinches the bridge of his nose in response. 

Yori felt a little bad, just slightly, at the fact that he was pushing Hiroki so much, but it deserved to be said. Yori knew he was right, after all, Hiroki was the best piano player he had ever seen, and he deserved more recognition than he got. “Listen, angelface,” Hiroki began, and the nickname made Yori’s heart skip a beat. Angelface? Really? It was pretty lame, in all honesty, but also a little endearing, maybe… 

“It’s…. It’s Yori.” He stutters out, and Hiroki continues, unphased. 

“Alright, yeah, Yori.” He pulls his hand away from his face, instead crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “You’re that friend of Raimen, right?” Yori confirms, and Hiroki continues. “Don’t tell him about this. Actually, scratch that, don’t tell anyone about this, and especially not him, alright?”

Yori nodded, nervously, and he swallowed hard. Though he wanted others to know how good Hiroki was, he respected his privacy more, and didn’t want to upset him when they had an almost-good-acquaintances thing going on, and might even become friends. Yori wouldn’t mind that. “Can I…” Yori trailed off, slightly, looking at the ground, then at the piano, then at Hiroki and the ground again. “Can I hear you play again, in the future, though?” He asked, kicking his feet against the floor.

Hiroki paused, slightly. He looked like he was about to say ‘No.’ but ended up thinking better of it. “Maybe.” He said, which, in all honesty, was still better than a flat out refusal, so Yori would take what he could get.

His face lit up, and he smiled up at Hiroki. “Really?” He asked, again, in confirmation.

Hiroki groaned and turned his back to Yori, starting towards the door before Yori could drag the conversation out any longer than he already had. “Sure. Whatever. Just don’t tell anyone, alright?” 

“I won’t, I promise!” Yori said, and came trailing out the door after him.


End file.
